I know it's only sports and there's a debate on that may well decide the final fate of our country, of our little experiment in constitutional democracy.
There are more important things. To others. Including me.
I remember going to Wrigley Field as a youngster with a busload of Swedes from the Vikings' Club, giddy on morning herring, and highballs and Bloody Marys (the adults, not me), heckling passers-by (again the adults, not me) en route to another Cubs' loss.
I remember watching at my grandparents' house in Blue Island as Jack Brickhouse called Ernie Banks's 500th home run.
I remember 1969, 1984, 1989, 2015, and especially 2003.
I remember my Grandpa and his 60+ years of loyalty and sadness ("those damn Cubs") and my Dad and his 70+ years of anticipation and delusion.
Please, please. Just this once. Let the little guy, the underdog, the endurer of 108 years of misery and frustration and ultimately false hope, come out on top.
|photo from http://cdn9.whiskeyriff.com|